Hurt
by ThineClementine
Summary: Happy endings are just the beginning for sad preludes. Rated T for attempted suicide. AU if you squint. Oneshot for now, may become more later.


**Summary:** Happy endings are just the beginning for sad preludes. Rated T for attempted suicide. AU if you squint.

**Rating: **T

**Word Count:**

**Disclaimer:** I claim no ownership of the Legend of Zelda enterprise or any related characters.

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He hadn't planned on things ending this way.

Not today, at least, not now. He had only gone out thinking he was going on a stroll, getting away from everything, namely the people of Castletown who fled in superstitious awe and--- something in his chest pulled taut--- fear. That was something he would never forget, always scorched on the insides of his eyelids. Was he really so scary? Why did the children have to look at him with those eyes? Those eyes that were too large and terrified and "Mommy, is that really the Hero who killed ten thousand? Whose sword was flowing with blood, whose hands carry death and destruction and Goddess's rage? "

It was a fatal blow, every time, everywhere, people falling to their knees in obeisance or cowering back with their children clutched to their bated breaths. Once, he had been a story of hope to lull children to sleep. "Don't fear, darling, the Hero of Time will come and banish the darkness." That is what mothers had told their little ones as they laid down to rest, flinching at every shadow.

Now, they flinched at him. "Once a man, now as powerful as the Goddesses themselves, he smites those who stray from Their path. He is the Goddess' hand in the world and wields Their righteous fury. To disrespect him is to disrespect the Goddesses. Don't you stray, young one, and hold your tongue before him, or you too will meet his sword, the sword that slew ten-thousand." It was whispered only in the darkest of nights, a story meant only for the darkest of nights.

But for all it stung, the fear was nothing compared to the blaming hate. He woke in the night pleading and crying like a child frightened of the dark. If anyone were to see the mighty Hero fallen so far, begging everyone who was not there, surely they wouldn't have been able to fear him. But they did not see and did not hear. Anything, he cried to no one on those lonely nights, anything but those baleful eyes. Anything but those gravestones and the gaunt mothers who cried, always cried, and accused him with their tears.

It haunted him, waking and dreaming, the mothers weeping and staring with a hate that rode the tides of sorrow. Their sobs found him no matter how far or fast he ran. "My pretties!" One had cried, reduced to her knees, clutching desperately a doll to her breast as if it were a real child. "All my pretties are gone!"

Gone because of you. Their eyes said it, though their lips did not. The Hero of Time, Evil's Bane, the Savior of Hyrule, unable to save my child, my husband, my friend. Link had failed. Every time he saw the tomb stones, lined up neat and tidy like white picket fences with toys and parents and loved ones scattered before their death's altar, he felt his failure like a physical blow. Every tomb was a face with eyes open to the sky and seeing nothing. His name was on their cold lips, begging for salvation that hadn't come. Each night in his dreams they died again and again. And each night _he_ died again and again.

Forgetting was an exercise in futility. The nightmares clung to him like a miasma through the day, refreshing themselves for another attack once the sun returned to its cradle. It seemed only he heard them screaming in their graves, blaming him. It was a relentless torment, one he knew he couldn't survive for much longer.

Even for all his inner torment, he had smiled vaguely at Zelda as she passed him on his way out of the castle. She had hardly noticed, surrounded by her orbiting palace officials, discussing the outer defenses, the water supply, the upcoming Festival of Lights, the new guards soon to graduate from the training academy. Hyrule was thriving, and she didn't have time for a sword that had lost its purpose. Link couldn't blame her; he saw the lilac shadows under her glazed eyes, though they never seemed to meet his own anymore. She had an entire kingdom to look after, and he had no right to try and take up more of her precious time. But maybe if she would look up just once, look up smiling, and wave off those palace idiots and come sit at his side and speak with him for just a few minutes.

Those times were gone, him and her sitting together. She had become his family, his sister, as they celebrated a return to peace. Now at peace, she was an obscure memory, and he even more obscure. He wanted nothing more than to sit and speak with her, to pour out the contents of his soul as if at the altar and, likewise, have his turmoil absolved. He wanted, but did nothing. Zelda, so fierce and delicate, had a kingdom balanced precariously on her thin shoulders. She didn't need a Hero's load there, too.

Even so, it weighed upon him heavily. And like a true Hero, he ran away from the urge to stop her whenever it reared its head. In the beginning, he escaped to Kokiri, heart rising on the wings of the forest and the promise of Saria and her laughter and her songs.

His heart was felled from flight by smiles like arrows. He knew his tenuous welcome in his old home was gone. He was still a half man with no fairy all these years later, and now an adult. Saria grasped his hand and tried to numb the hurt, but it was a deep rooted pain that had plagued him since childhood, strengthened now as he became more and more ostracized. He fled from Kokiri like he had fled Castletown, a coward to the end.

He didn't return. Link hadn't even considered visiting when he stepped out, the same way he didn't consider visiting the Gorons or the Zora. They were prospering, returning to productivity, getting on with a life he wasn't a part of. They didn't have room for a once-Hero to hang around taking up precious space. He didn't force his company on them when behind their smiles were eyes always far away, considering the welfare of their kingdom, their families, and their friends. He left them with a formless smile and a wave goodbye.

With nowhere to go, Link wandered the wide open lands that he had never gotten the time to slow down and admire during his battle against evil.

Eventually, the paths and roads that carved their way across the fields of Hyrule were left behind his heels, forfeited for the unmarked grassy plains. Epona flicked her tail as he passed where she grazed, ears pushed forward and soft nose probing for a hand. With a small smile, he had stroked her nose and fed her a carrot from one of his pouches, kept always on hand for such an occasion. Giddy, she cantered in wide circles that looped farther and farther away, drunk on the wide open space. He could hardly bring it upon himself to force the saddle and bridle on her anymore. He saw the scars she had suffered alongside him in battle and knew the ache they brought. He saw it in the lines of her bones and the tilt of her head. In return for all her help, he let her run wild, and she thanked him with those same warm, trusting eyes that he had marveled at the first day he had glimpsed her trotting up.

Link left her now, his feet moving in rote as his mind wandered.

In the end, he wasn't quite sure what had caused his feet to lead him to such a place. It was beautiful none the less, that cliff that overlooked the entirety of the land that he had fought and bled for. His bangs fluttered in the updrafts, cool and inviting. With a surprising sense of purpose, he stepped to the edge, so close that the toes of his boots hung out in thin air. And though he hadn't come here consciously, some part of him knew that this was his final destination.

And it was so calm. He had felt nothing but a great tumult until the moment he peered over the edge at the swaying waves of grass that seemed a hundred miles below. For a moment, he allowed himself to just stand and be absorbed in peace.

Contrarily, the wind was restless so high up. It goaded impatiently from behind, swaying him breathlessly forward towards the fall. Then it caught him from the front, gently leading him back to ground like a mother taking hold of a mischievous child about to do something very naughty. Link closed his eyes, hesitating in place.

He knew this feeling. It was one he battled from the moment he opened his eyes to the moment he closed them again, that sensation of wavering just on the edge, nearly going over into the abyss, only to be persuaded back. He fought it, always there in the pit of his stomach or lingering ominously on the fringes. He was almost afraid to open his eyes and discover that it wasn't a familiar expanse he hesitated over, but that nameless abysmal sea that always threatened to rise up and devour him at any given moment.

Link's courage didn't fail him. Eyelashes fluttered. Merrily, the grass beckoned to him, imploring him to come down and rest.

His shield hit the ground behind him heavily, a goliath falling to its knees. His sword slipped from his hand as if it had weighed heavier with every day that had passed since it had tasted that last battle. He drove the blade into the ground and leant against it, his shoulders curved like that hunch of an old man's back. Had he always felt so tired? Like his legs couldn't carry him another step?

Link released the familiar grip of the hilt, the feeling of the worn leather there permanently impressed into the flesh of his palm. Every scratch and nick on the blade reflected his scars like a mirror image, telling a long tale of struggles and pain. His own eyes stared back at him from the blade. In them, he saw that dark sea again and felt a swift motion, as if he were about to plunge into the savage blue. He turned away, his legs filled with strength enough to carry him to the precipice, and he was again seduced by the soft grass below. He had laid in it many times long ago with Zelda. He wondered if it still smelt of dew. The wind at his back pressed forward, tempting him to find out.

A rush of wind in his face allowed him another moment of teetering dangerously. Faces exploded behind his eyes like home made fireworks with Saria so many years ago. Saria herself, Malon, Zelda, Darunia, Ruto, and Impa were soon replaced by people whose names he didn't know but whose faces he would never forget. The crying mothers, the family members and friends gathered around to grieve, the children who ran from him in the street. All the people he couldn't save were alive again, dying again.

The sounds of battles that had long past been fought filled his ears; the clash of blades, the shuffling of frantic feet and a grunt of effort in every stroke of the sword. From every side, death cries and the sickening last thump of bodies hitting the dirt. His own ragged breathing echoed in his ears, and he realized that the breath was real, and he stood staring downward, fists clenched until the leather of his gauntlets creaked. His lungs heaved for air as if he were a drowning man.

And in a way, Link was. He hadn't thought it possible to drown in memories, but that was exactly what was happening. Even as he drew another breath, all he smelled was the tang of sweat and blood. It was familiar as his own name, that smell. In some far away part of his psyche, he could still hear Navi and her reedy voice, giving advice as he fought, his eyes stinging with sweat. They were stinging now with something else, something that burned and pressed behind his vision.

The wind placed its hand between his shoulder blades and coaxed him forward. His arms, free of the strain of hefting the Master Sword and his Hyrulian shield, opened wide as if to embrace the land that stretched out beneath him. And suddenly the earth was gone from beneath his feet, and he was falling.

The moment his feet left the precipice far behind, the wind was rushing up, howling in his ears. It snagged at his clothes and seized his hat from his head. Pulled free from its tail, his hair snapped past his ears and cracked like a whip in the wind. He squinted into the rushing air, eyes watering, and was suddenly tumbling out of a graceful plunge until the wind played with his limbs like a rag doll, throwing his body into chaos. The lapis lazuli sky swung into his vision, just a smudge to his baptized eyes, and his heart fluttered with a hope everyone in Hyrule had felt before he had defeated Ganon. A hope for peace, lasting and undisturbed. No more nightmares or fear, no more memories. Just rest and peace.

The freefall stretched on through time. He was falling forever. His head was a rush of memories and impatience, waiting for the last impact. As it neared, everything numbed. The faces finally left him and the screams muffled in his ears. A strange sense of serenity enfolded him like a spurned lover's arms just moments before Link met the earth.

The sky imploded into blackness, heralded by a nauseating thud and multiple, simultaneous cracks. For a moment, he felt a quick pain, but it slipped away like summer butterfly wings, and all he felt was an imploring tugging in his gut, as if he were forgetting something. He pushed it away, breaths shuddering, and there it was, the familiar soothing smell of dew. He had been right; it smelt the same as it had forever ago, under a blue sky that echoed with laughter and dreams…

His senses abandoned him, and he sunk into a wonderful calm like he had never been allowed to experience in years. He sighed, grasped everything in his hands--- all the memories, the suffering, the feelings of abandonment and pointlessness and _failure_--- and let go.

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**Author's Note:** I don't really know how to explain this. Really. I was in the mood for something sad, and I couldn't help but let my mind wander to Legend of Zelda, as I had been on that particular kick at the time. Of course I chose Link, and began to ask myself questions of how the people of Hyrule could have reacted, how he could have been seen by the masses. It's not too hard to conjure up, is it? A single man who defeated so many almost insurmountable foes and evils, a Hero who had been prophesized, with a myriad of weapons at his hand, what if rumors had turned him into something more than a man in the eyes of the common men?

This is just me speculating at a vague notion of that possibility. Truly, I had been trying to imagine what could drive Link to do such a thing as I've written out here. And really, I think it very possible that he could lose his sense of worth or purpose after the fact, and even more so that during the following peace many of his friends, who are often in very important positions, would become overly busy and might be stretched thin on time to spend with the Hero. That combined with a public that revered him in almost a state of fear, and the general lack of a real purpose, I think would drive him far too close to the edge.

But please, ignore my ramblings. I am really just trying to think of a way to excuse myself for writing something so blithely depressing and overly dramatic. Excuse me that.

Humbly yours,

Clementine


End file.
